from a corner of consciousness…

There are days when thoughts appear without being called. Without being searched for. Without even being wanted, sometimes. They come out of the blue—or maybe not out of the blue, but from some kind of invisible space that contains me more than I contain it.

I don’t know if you’ve felt it too… those moments when you stop everything, and without any reason, you find yourself floating in a state that doesn’t quite feel like thinking, nor like dreaming. A thought comes, and you don’t know where from. You didn’t formulate it, but it’s there. It passes through your mind like a ray of light through still water—you can’t catch it, but you see its trace.

Sometimes I wonder if we really think all the things that pass through our minds. Or if, on the contrary, we are just an open door, a window through which ideas pass—ideas that don’t fully belong to us. Maybe we’re just passage points. Places through which life itself thinks.

And what’s even stranger is that some of those thoughts… change us. They touch us in deep places, without us knowing why. We can’t explain them, but we feel them as true. Truer than any logic. They’re like a kind of poetry that comes before words.

It has happened to me—to stare into nothing and feel, for no apparent reason, that everything around me has meaning, even if I can’t put it into words. As if part of me knows something that my mind cannot express. A kind of wisdom that doesn’t come from books, but from silence.

That’s what I believe lies behind the idea of “thoughts without a thinker.” It’s not about absence, but about a different kind of presence. One that doesn’t need control, analysis, or labels. A presence that simply is. And one that, paradoxically, makes us feel more alive than all the noise of ordinary thought.

To not think, sometimes, is an act of honesty with yourself. To let things come. To sit, like an old bench in a park, and let the thoughts settle on you like autumn leaves—without asking them who they are or why they came.

Maybe we’re not meant to understand everything. Maybe some things are meant to be felt, not analyzed. And in that nameless feeling, in that quiet contemplation, we meet something greater than ourselves. Something that has no face, but has a kind of heart.
And in that heart… we are all thoughts without a thinker.